Sir Simon. No; rather than consent, I'd give up every acre of my estate.
Pereg. Your conduct proves you unworthy of your estate; and, unluckily for you, you have roused the indignation of an elder brother, who now stands before you, and claims it.
Sir Simon. Eh!—Zounds!—Peregrine!
Pereg. I can make my title too good, in an instant, for you to dispute it. My agent in London has long had documents on the secret he has kept; and several old inhabitants here, I know, are prepared to identify me.
Sir Simon. I had a run-away brother—a boy that every body thought dead. How came he not to claim till now?
Pereg. Because, knowing he had given deep cause of offence, he never would have asserted his abandon'd right, had he not found a brother neglecting, what no Englishman should neglect—justice and humanity to his inferiors.
Enter Dennis Brulgruddery.
Dennis. Stand asy, all of you; for I've big news for my half-drown'd customer. Och! bless your mug! and is it there you are?
Sir Simon. What's the matter now?
Dennis. Hould your tongue, you little man!—There's a great post just come to your Manor-house, and the Indiaman's work'd into port.